


Out of The Loop

by Saros



Category: Dolls (naked ape Manga)
Genre: Community: 12_stories, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saros/pseuds/Saros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making narrowing circles within an inch of the breaking point, they cherish their convictions and strain every nerve in order to keep them. The final outcomes of one long busy day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of The Loop

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a little trifle thingie, but somehow I got carried away...   
> Written for 12_stories LJ community, Dark theme table, prompt "Hurt".

"You know, you actually had it coming."  
  
Scowling Asou crosses his arms and looks sideways to his silent companion, as they are tramping to their department's floor from the chief's office. Just now they survived quite an unpleasant meeting with the higher-ups regarding today's incident at the arrest scene — the one that involved a case of discreditable behaviour and improper conduct, or, in short, a violent clash with a certain Tokkei brigade.  
  
"And you, in fact, did get off easily! Interfering with the Tokkei in the line of duty, committing a physical assault upon an officer in an effort to obstruct the performance of his official duties, — and you are just _taken off for a rest_ from the case, which now is thrown to the _Closed_ anyway?!" Asou snorts and jerks his hands up in amazement. "Still, that's not something that a promising career officer would like to have recorded in his personal file."  
  
Asou can find a wide range of reasons to lose his temper, but his irritation usually doesn't go beyond a certain boiling point. But this time is different. With all due respect for his partner's zeal and energy, there are the limits one should not overstep, so he cannot help being passionate, — especially as Hasui remains apparently aloof to his reproaching.  
  
"It's a miracle that they didn't bash you up on the spot!" Asou is all too well acquainted with the unhealthy obsession Hasui demonstrates toward the Tokkei establishment, and it plagues and utterly disturbs him to observe that the tendency is worsening to the extent of a complete loss of self-control. "Seriously, Hasui, what were you _thinking_ lashing out at the c..."  
  
"But nobody cares a damn!" Hasui swings around, his enormous eyes are darkened with restrained rage, and he spits: "Never! Ever! I'm so tired of it. Well, maybe, when they actually do hurt a decent man, _potentially_ something would be done with this bloody system!"  
  
"What? Wait, wait, I don't quite follow... Oh." Asou blinks. "Are you now offering _yourself_ as an immolated victim of the regime? Rebelling against authority in the name of great justice, huh? Hasui, you... are stretching the limits of audacity, you know?"  
  
Hasui doesn't respond for a while, and when he does, his reply is tinged with a faint smugly tone:  
  
"Calm down, Asou. No need to get worked up and exaggerate."  
  
"Same goes for you! You sure could not mean to go this far as to..."  
  
"Of course, I didn't. _That's_ not a reasonable way to oppose a rotten system."  
  
Pausing at the door, they look at one another; their glances meet. The frenetic glittering in Hasui's eyes is already switched off, replased by lacklustre gravity.  
  
"You know I'm not like this. I will _never_ cross the line," he adds with a solemn conviction and passes forward, cutting off the conversation.  
  
"I do," Asou nods to his back. He truly can't imagine how that could be possible.  
  
"And I do care, in fact", he mutters to himself. "About you. Although you never managed to notice."

* * *

Tamao brews the sage tea for the 3rd time and casts a weary glance at the clock. His hopes for a little comforting squabble with Shouta are dwindling with every next change of the hours digits. It was "20" when he came home. It's "23" right now, and not for long.  
  
Suddenly, loud yells from the outside break the nocturnal quietness. Tamao stumbles towards the balcony, but before he reaches the spot to ascertain the nuisance, the entrance door swings open and Shouta tumbles inside: panting, disheveled, his glasses askew, colorful bruises bleeding on his cheekbones.  
  
"Shou-chan! Oh my, Shou-chan!!! What happened, who did that to you?!"  
  
Shouta endures Tama's squeaks, chiding, treatment and caresses with a perfectly sustained deadpan expression, slightly wincing as the delicate fingers touch his swollen sores.  
  
An assumed midnight ruffian attack worked just fine. Not a word was voiced about what happened in the daytime.  
  
He's drifting off with an aching face and a heavy heart. Recollecting many misfortunes of the passing day, Shouta resorts to his usual routine of autogenic training; he endeavours to pick out something reassuring to cling to, something lively and strongly enough to keep himself from drowning in the everlastingly looming abyss of despair.  
  
Persuading Toudou, that punching his direct commander in the face doesn't contradict any regulations and is, in fact, essential for the purpose of keeping his identity secret, was his success with a long-term outlook. The memory of Usaki Toudou's brand new expression of perplexity is his emotional cure for tonight.


End file.
